


Tear You Apart

by lavenderspark



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Body Dissection, Death, F/M, Graphic Violence, Prodigal Son AU, Smut, Violence, dark!Malcolm, serial killer Malcolm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:54:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23852638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lavenderspark/pseuds/lavenderspark
Summary: AU where Malcolm didn't turn his father in to the police. Dark!Malcolm. PLEASE READ THE TAGS FOR TRIGGER WARNINGSApparently this is what quarantine does to my brain...
Comments: 3
Kudos: 45





	Tear You Apart

Malcolm scanned the dance floor from the bar, swirling his glass of scotch as he watched the dancers. _If you could call what they were doing dancing_ , Malcolm smirked, taking a drink. He saw a young blonde woman approach the bar out of the corner of his eye, she was perfect. He shifted slightly, eyes going back to the dance floor, but no longer watching the crowd. His heart raced, his focus on the blonde. He stifled a grin as he felt her settle on the stool next to him, keeping his eyes straight ahead.

“Why are you sitting here all by yourself?” She asked, leaning close so he could hear over the music.

He breathed in her scent, light, but cloying perfume with hints of her drink on her breath. “Would you have come over here if I wasn't alone?” He asked, turning to her with a smile. 

She pulled back, startled, eyes searching his face. He kept still, relaxing his smile, holding her gaze while she looked him over. Finally, she laughed, “No, I guess not,” she took a sip of her drink, “I'm Eve.”

“Malcolm,” he said, inclining his head toward her. 

“You seem a little over dressed for this place, Malcolm,” she said, her eyes traveling the length of his body as she took another drink.

He looked down at himself, the top two buttons of his olive green shirt open, sleeves rolled up, exposing his forearms. His charcoal slacks ironed to lay smooth against his thighs, ending just above his shiny oxford shoes. He looked back up at her, eyes wide, “Eve, did you come over here just to insult me?”

“No! No, I...” she stammered.

He laughed, “I know. I blame my mother, she would never allow me to leave the house in anything less than a suit.”

“I'll have to thank her sometime,” she said, smiling.

Malcolm smiled, watching her finish her drink. She set the empty glass on the bar, her eyes finding his, “Dance with me,” she said, sliding her fingers over the back of his hand. He gripped the glass in his other hand tighter, hiding the tremor. 

“Who would say no to that?” He said, downing the last of his drink. 

Eve smiled as he took her hand, pulling her up off the bar stool, leading her to the dance floor. He pulled her against him, sliding his hands along her body to rest on her hips. She wrapped her hands around his neck, fingers combing through his hair. He closed his eyes, gripping her hips as they rocked into each other with the beat. 

By the third song, he flipped Eve around, pulling her back against his chest. She sighed, laying her head back on his shoulder. Malcolm bent his head over her neck, ghosting his lips along the curve up to her ear. “I want to tear you apart,” he whispered in her ear, hand splaying across her abdomen. He felt her body shudder against his as she pressed into him, closing her eyes. “Would you like to go to my place?” He asked, lips brushing against her ear. She moaned, nodding her head.

When the song ended, he lead her off the dance floor, winding their way through the crowd to the door. Once they were outside, he stopped, taking a deep breath of the night air. The wind was a relief from the heat inside the club. He turned to Eve, squeezing the hand he was still holding. “Hey, are you sure?” He asked.

“Yes,” she said, looking him in the eye.

“Okay, I wasn't sure how much you had to drink and a gentleman never forces.”

She smiled, “I only had the one drink.”

“Then I'll get us a cab,” he grinned, flagging down the first one to go by. 

Malcolm gave his address to the driver as he climbed in after Eve. He slipped an arm around her shoulders, his fingers gently stroking her arm. Ten minutes later, they stepped out in front of his building. He unlocked the door, holding it open for her, then following her up the stairs. At the top, he opened the door, once again holding it open for her. As she stepped through, he grabbed her, pushing her against the door. He claimed her mouth with his own, swallowing her gasp. He demanded entrance, roughly parting her lips. She moaned, fisting her hands in his shirt, pulling him closer. 

“Hang on,” he said, lifting her off the floor. She wrapped her legs around his waist, her fingers finding the buttons of his shirt, working them through the holes. He carried her to the living room, the couch had been pushed aside, the floor covered in plastic. He kissed along her collar bone as he carefully maneuvered her into the chair in the middle of the room. He knelt between her knees, kissing her deeply as his hands traveled down her legs, finding the cuffs waiting. He deftly closed them around her ankles, hands sliding back up to her thighs. She moaned as he grazed her inner thigh with his fingers, her hands over his shoulders, urging him closer. 

He smiled against her lips, gently removing her hands and placing them on the arms of the chair. His lips resumed kissing as his hands quickly found the cuffs on the arms of the chair, securing her wrists in place. Eve startled slightly, pulling back from him, “Malcolm...?” she whispered. He chuckled darkly, stepping away from her. Eve blinked at the room around her, taking in the wall of weapons in front of her, noticing the plastic on the floor for the first time. 

“What?” She tried to move and found she couldn't, looking down, she saw the restraints. She tugged at her arms, trying to free them. “Malcolm, what is this? I'm not okay with this, whatever it is,” she said, looking up at him, eyes wild. 

“Oh, I know,” Malcolm smiled, stepping behind her, “A gentleman never forces, but I never said _I_ was a gentleman,” he whispered in her ear. She flinched away from him, a small whimper escaping her lips.

“What are you going to do to me?” 

“I told you Eve,” he said, coming around to squat in front of her, cupping her face with his hand, “I'm going to tear you apart.”

“No,” she whispered, “You can't.”

He laughed softly, his eyes bright, “I assure you, I can,” he said, standing. He walked to the wall, opening a drawer under the display. “My father is The Surgeon,” he called over his shoulder, “he taught me many things,” he said, turning back to her holding a knife, the light from the display glinting off the sharp edge. 

Eve recoiled, trying to move as far away as possible, tears silently falling down her cheeks, “Please,” she begged. 

“There's no need to be so quiet,” he said, stepping closer to her, he spun the knife around his fingers, smiling down at her, “My mother owns this building, I'm the only one here.” 

Eve's eyes went wide, watching him until he was looming over her, her voice stuck in her throat until the first slice of the blade. Her scream ripped into the room as Malcolm cut into her body. He let her scream herself hoarse before slitting her throat. Then he returned to carefully flaying the skin and muscles from the bones of her shoulder, exposing the tendons until he could easily remove her arm. 

He spent hours at his task, working diligently until it was complete. He laid her out on the floor, admiring his work. Each time it was getting easier, finding the best choice and completing his task faster each time. He sighed looking at his watch, it was time to clean up. Always his least favorite part. If only he could keep each part of each one... Instead, he collected all the pieces, placing them in separate bags before putting all of them in one large duffel bag along with the now folded plastic sheet. 

He showered and changed his clothes, placing the bloodstained clothes in the bag. Satisfied that the area was clean, he moved the couch back to the center of the room. He put on his coat, picked up the duffel bag and left the apartment. He sent a text as he started walking down the sidewalk, _I have a package for you._ He continued walking until he reached the park, finding the bench by the large oak tree, he sat down to wait. 

Fifteen minutes later, Watkins arrived, joining him on the bench. “Nice night for a drive,” he said.

Malcolm smiled, “Yes it is.”

Watkins picked up the duffel and left, whistling into the night.


End file.
